


Attempts at Aid

by glimmerglanger



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Biology, CPR, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied background codywan, Missions Gone Wrong, Whumptober 2020, field medicine, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27147010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glimmerglanger/pseuds/glimmerglanger
Summary: “Commander?” Rex barked, dropping to a knee and waving the rest of the troopers to keep going. They needed to make their rendezvous with General Kenobi’s men, and they were still too far away. Ahsoka didn’t twitch when he gripped her shoulder, just...boneless across the ground.OR, the one where Ahsoka takes an injury in the field, and Rex tries to administer first-aid.
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 29
Kudos: 276





	Attempts at Aid

**Author's Note:**

> Written for whumptober 2020, for the "field medicine" prompt. Getting so close to the end!

The thing about the Jedi, Rex considered, was that they could keep going long after the time any of his brothers would have just fallen down and stopped. Their connection to the Force kept them moving, kept them functional, past the point of reason.

At first, in the early days of the war, he’d envied that about them. He’d thought, watching General Skywalker and Ahsoka fight and struggle, that exhaustion and hurt just didn’t touch them the same way. He’d thought, back when he was a shiny, that the Force shielded them, took away a measure of the hurt or the agony.

He’d learned, learned on battlefields and in the medbay, after, that it didn’t work quite like that. They…borrowed strength from the Force. Took what they needed, to save people or to win. But they had to repay everything they took with interest.

The Jedi kept going, until whatever terrible bargain they’d made for the ability ran out, and then they just stopped.

Rex was sprinting full out through the woods, ignoring the branches whipping across his bucket and shoulders, when Ahsoka just stopped. 

He swore, watching her go down out of the corner of his eyes and pivoting so fast his feet almost slipped on the leaf mold spread across the ground all around them. The seppies weren’t actively firing on them, anymore, they’d outdistanced the kriffing clankers, and at first it made no sense, at first he thought she’d just slipped.

But she was sprawled, face-down across the ground, in a way that didn’t look like an accidental tumble.

Besides, Rex hadn’t ever actually  _ seen  _ a Jedi trip. They were too aware of their exact place in the universe for that.

“Commander?” he barked, dropping to a knee and waving the rest of the troopers to keep going. They needed to make their rendezvous with General Kenobi’s men, and they were still too far away. Ahsoka didn’t twitch when he gripped her shoulder, just...boneless across the ground.

Something twisted, sharp and sudden, in his chest, the memory of hundreds - thousands - of his brothers killed, snuffed out, crawling up his nerves. He swore, distant, rolling her over onto her back, needing to find out what had happened, needing to see if he could rouse her or if he needed to haul her bodily away or--

There was, he noted, a lot of blood everywhere. There was a wound, on her side, a neat little hole in her tunic, that he found within moments, cursing. And it didn’t make sense, because, as far as Rex recalled from his anatomy training, there was nothing there that should have caused much damage and--

Only, he considered, tearing the tunic to get a look at the wound below - her skin was covered in blood, dark and thick - Ahsoka didn’t actually  _ have  _ the same anatomy as he and his brothers. He looked down at her, the smear of blood out of her side, and realized he had no idea where her organs were, what might have been hit.

He swore, again, thoughts a twisting spiral as he yanked open his medical supplies - they all carried the basics - wondering if  _ Kix  _ knew how she worked, inside. He had to. Rex had watched him patch Ahsoka up from worse than this. He flicked the capsule for a pressure bandage and pressed it to the wound before it could deploy, so it plugged the bleeding as much as possible, trying not to think about the fact that she didn’t seem to be doing much bleeding, anymore.

That was the best he could do for the bleeding, at least until they made it to General Kenobi’s men. There’d be a proper medic there. He just had to get her there, that was all. He shifted to lift her - carrying people with internal injuries was never the best choice, but leaving her there for the droids would be a much worse solution to the problem - and froze as the information his brain had been trying to convey for the last minute finally registered.

Ahsoka’s chest wasn’t rising and falling, anymore. 

He stared, just for a beat, sure he was wrong, and then swore, tearing off his bucket and tossing it to the side. He leaned down over her, ear close to her mouth, hoping she was just breathing weakly, hoping--

There was no brush of warm air across his cheek. Nothing at all, and he felt too breathless to swear, all of a sudden. He brought a hand to his mouth, gripped his glove in his teeth and tore it off, pressing his fingers against her neck, looking for a pulse and--

And he had no idea if he was even looking in the  _ right place _ . Kriffing hell, who knew where her arteries and veins were? He didn’t, he had no idea, but there was no flutter of a pulse under his fingers. Nothing at all, her skin cool, but her skin was always cool compared to his, clones ran hot, he knew that--

None of that was important, right at the moment. 

“Come on, come on,” he muttered, thoughtlessly, hours of training running through his head. They’d been drilled, over and over, in basic field medicine, in keeping one another alive. No one had ever thought to provide him with information about keeping a  _ Togruta  _ alive.

That thought ate away at him. He should have looked it up, he should have thought about this, earlier. The Jedi were always getting themselves hurt, why hadn’t he  _ read a kriffing book _ , learned at least where her heart was, how her respiratory system worked, why--

He could fix that problem, later, after he got her to General Kenobi, after she was fine. But he couldn’t carry her a click while she wasn’t breathing - while her heart was, maybe, not beating - she’d be dead too long by the time he got her to help.

Not even the Jedi could bring back the dead.

Which meant he needed to get her heart beating again - if it  _ wasn’t _ , kriff,  _ he didn’t know  _ \- and he needed her to be breathing. “Hold on,” he said, to know one, she certainly wasn’t listening, muscle memory taking over, thankfully. 

He shifted, stacking his hands on the middle of her chest - hoping, desperately, that her heart  _ was somewhere under her ribs _ , and pushed. His instructors had been just as harsh about these lessons as any other, he didn’t have to think about how hard to push, about his fast the compressions needed to be, his shoulders and arms remembered.

Something cracked under his hands on the third compression, and he knew, logically, that was a sign he was pressing as hard as he needed to press, but it still made nausea swim up his throat. She was already hurt, and he was breaking her ribs, and--

He moved, counting in the back of his head, to tilt her chin up; her lekku were losing color, he noted, the blue looking grayish. He didn’t see how that could possibly be a good sign, but had to push the worry to one side, pinching her nose shut and leaning over her.

Her mouth tasted like blood as he shoved air into her lungs - Force, he  _ hoped. _ He cut his gaze down, and saw her chest rise, a sliver of relief cutting through him. He gave her one more breath and pulled away again, resuming compressions, hoping, hoping that she’d suck in a breath on her own, roll towards him, gasp for air--

She didn’t.

She didn’t and she didn’t and she didn’t and, he knew, the clankers would be finding them, soon.

He knew, equally well, that stopping once he’d started would, effectively, mean her death and so he stayed, right where he was, even as he heard machines crashing through the trees. No one wanted to outlive their Jedi, anyway. He certainly didn’t.

And so he kept breathing for her, kept shoving at what he hoped was her heart, and she didn’t grow cold and he  _ hoped _ \--

A blaster shot missed his head by an inch and, if he’d had the breath for it - after breathing for two people for so long - he would have apologized to her, for failing, for letting her die, for  _ not knowing what to do _ , not being better, not--

He heard the whine of incoming artillery and curled over her; maybe at least they’d be able to find her body if he--

The explosion didn’t kill him. He blinked, processing that, smoke swirling around him along with the smell of char. He looked up at the familiar thrum of a lightsaber, looked up right into General Kenobi’s back, a blur of motion as he charged past, directly into the oncoming clankers, a flash of copper and electric blue.

“Move!” someone shouted at Rex, and grabbed his shoulder. He fought against them, for just a moment, and then recognized Kix. Kix, who was dropping to his knees on Ahsoka’s other side, gaze sharp and intent.

“She’s not breathing,” Rex blurted, “and I don’t know about her heart, I don’t--”

“I’ve got it,” Kix snapped, pulling out metal things, devices that Rex didn’t have names for, looking up with a fierce expression that changed as he saw Rex’s face. Something softened, around his eyes and mouth, and he said, more softly, “Give me some cover, so I can work.”

Rex swallowed, harshly, and jerked out a nod. He shoved to his feet, dizzy, and turned to face the army, blaster in hand and steady. And, after, when it was all done, he sagged, resisting the urge to bend over and catch his knees.

“Captain,” General Kenobi said, startling him out of his head. Rex blinked over at him. The thing about the Jedi, Rex considered, was that they could keep going long after the time any of his brothers would have just fallen down and stopped. Their connection to the Force kept them moving, kept them functional, past the point of reason.

And so it really wasn’t much of a surprise that General Kenobi was on his feet, despite the head wound that had coated one side of his face and neck with blood, and the stains here and there of blaster char across his tunic. He’d come from a fight and leapt right into another, to save their skin. Rex nodded at him, “General. What’s--”

It was a surprise, when Kenobi reached out to grip his shoulder. For a moment, Rex thought he was only doing it for support. The General looked like he should have been on the ground. But he squeezed, kept his weight off of Rex, and said, “Thank you.”

Rex blinked at him. “Sir?”

“For keeping her alive,” Kenobi said, patting his shoulder again, and there was relief and gratitude around his tired eyes, something that reached in and squeezed at Rex’s chest. Not his heart, he didn’t think; he knew exactly where  _ his  _ was, and it wasn't….well.

“She’s alright, then?” he asked, his voice a rasp. Kix had hauled her off, midway through the battle, on a stretcher delivered by the other medics. The last glimpse Rex had gotten of her had been of her hand, hanging off the side of the stretcher, still limp.

Kenobi nodded, mouth curving just a little. “Thanks to you,” he said, and turned aside as Cody called something to him from across the battlefield. Rex watched him go, watched Cody grab  _ his  _ shoulder and hold him in place, pressing a bandage to the side of his head and--

Exhaled. Breathed deep. Leaned back against the shattered remnants of a tree and closed his eyes, just for a minute.


End file.
